


encores can be fatal

by spock



Category: Front Cover (2015)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bad Decisions, Chatting & Messaging, Developing Relationship, Emotional Sex, Fashion & Couture, Getting Back Together, Hook-Up, Hot Springs & Onsen, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Make the Yuletide Gay, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Trains, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:49:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21898435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spock/pseuds/spock
Summary: Ning told him once that he was always dreaming. Ryan has no idea if those dreams include him any more now than back when it'd all gone to shit to begin with.
Relationships: Ryan Fu/Qi Xiao Ning
Comments: 8
Kudos: 11
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	encores can be fatal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kaiosea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiosea/gifts).



An arm appears from out of nowhere, hooking itself through Ryan's and dragging him from the conversation he'd been in the middle of. Ryan doesn't say anything until they're firmly relocated into the one uninhabited corner of the room. "Oh what the hell." 

"Don't act like you mind." Simon's got this way of chastising even as a grin stretches across his face. It's probably the accent. "There's a man over there who's been staring at you for the past hour."

Ryan's interest is decidedly piqued. "Who is it?" he asks, turning to look over his shoulder. The hall is carpeted wall-to-wall with gorgeous people. Actors, models, musicians, the male crosssection of whom Ryan wouldn't kick out of his bed in the morning. 

"Over by the balcony," Simon instructs, gesturing with a nod of his chin. 

Ryan’s eyes lock with the man in question, just long enough for the both of them to realize that it's happened. Ryan turns right back around. "Not interested."

Simon looks as if it's him that's been rejected. "Are you mad?" he hisses. "He's gorgeous! And looking at you like you're the last piece of a Sterling set he's been looking for all his life."

"That's nice." Ryan downs the rest of the drink he's been nursing since they'd arrived. Whatever staffing agency the Gucci team hired out for the evening is top-tier; a waiter appears at his elbow in seconds, taking Ryan now-empty glass and offering a tray off which to pick a replacement, extending it to Simon afterward, even though the old fashioned Simon's got now is still mostly full. 

On any other night, he'd give Simon a hard time for grabbing another, but Jon had flown in the morning prior. His increasingly drunk boss will not be Ryan's issue tonight, even if Jon has gotten himself lost somewhere out in the masses behind them. 

"Didn't you tell me once that you preferred Asian men?" Simon needles. 

Ryan rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his new drink. "Not all Asian men are the same."

Something over Ryan's shoulder has caught Simon's attention. Ryan hopes against hope that it's Jon making a scene. "Oh absolutely," Simon agrees, voice lowered. "Some of them look like _this_." A smile lights up his face. "Hello!"

"Good evening."

All the muscles of Ryan's back tense up at once, shoulders raising up to his ears. He very pointedly doesn't turn around. "Ah, well, I'll leave you to it," he says, and makes to extract himself. 

Simon's hand grips the lapel of his jacket in a viper-grip before he can so much as take a step away. Ning, to his credit, is much more reserved, stepping into Ryan's path rather than going so far as to grab him outright. 

"I was actually hoping to speak with you," Ning says. 

Ryan can appreciate that Ning at least possesses enough shame to be sheepish. Simon, on the other hand, looks near rapture. 

"Of course you were!" Simon doesn't go so far as to clap his hands together, but Ryan can tell that the bastard wants to. "I'll just leave you two to it," he throws back in Ryan's face, slipping a _ta!_ in his wake as he hurries off to disappear into the crowd centered in the middle of the hall.

Ning and he look at one another for a moment. Ryan wonders why he didn't just do them both a favor and keep his staring act up from the other side of the room if he knew he wouldn't be able to actually speak. 

"Well," Ryn says, just to break the silence. 

"How are you doing?" Ning asks in a rush.

Ryan decides to let himself be the bigger man. "Fine." He takes another sip of his drink. "Into concept design now," he adds, nodding towards the general direction Simon disappeared to. 

Ning nods, eager. "That's nice," he says. 

"Do you even know what concept design is?" 

It's possible that he isn't feeling very big after all. 

The shine of Ning's face dampens a bit. "No," he admits. "But you seem happy, which is all that matters, right?" 

Ryan rolls his lips into his mouth. "What about you?" he asks. "How's acting going?"

"Lots of projects," Ning says, the beginnings of a smile hovering at the corners of his lips. "Very busy. I do Gucci partnership too." He gestures to his outfit. Ryan allows himself to look at Ning for a moment, taking in the well-cut lines of the green suit the house has outfitted him with. 

He makes sure that Ning notices the once-over he gives him, as well as the unimpressed look that settles on his face once their eyes meet again. "Wow," he says, voice even. "That does sound busy. How's the girlfriend handling it?"

Ning's face hardens more than it falls. "No girlfriend," he says, edge to his voice. "Bad for image to date for so long without get married, and even worse to get married."

Ryan laughs. "Yeah, I bet," he agrees. "Hard to be on the down-low with someone breathing down your neck too, huh?"

"Why must you—"

"Actually, never mind." He downs the dregs of his drink, nodding appreciatively when a waiter steps forward to collect it, waving the kid off when he tries to offer Ryan another. "I've got another event I should probably show my face at. I'm out. It was nice seeing you, I guess."

He walks away, into the crowd and through it until he's able to relocate the coat check, handing over his ticket to the girl working it. 

Ning appears at his side just as she's returned with Ryan's jacket. "Mine too, please," he says, passing over his tag. 

Ryan rolls his eyes and heads for the door, ignoring Ning's voice calling out his name. 

Rome is weirdly balmy at this time of night, and Ryan regrets having put his coat on. The street is fairly empty as he sets off in the direction he recalls his and Simon's Airbnb to be in, shrugging his coat off and hooking it over his arm as he turns the corner. 

Footsteps race behind him, and Ryan can't do much more than sigh. "Can we not?" he asks, cutting a glance at Ning from the corner of his eye. 

"Why are you difficult?" Ning grabs hold of Ryan's hand and drags him into a quiet side-street. The apartments above them all seem to have their windows closed, but Ryan isn't all that eager to be the loud Chinese guy when one of the locals inevitably calls the cops on them. 

"What do you want, Ning?" he asks, trying to keep his voice low. "Nothing has changed for me, and it doesn't seem like much has changed for you either, so just what the fuck are we doing here, exactly?"

Ning grunts and then shoves at Ryan's chest hard enough to push him back a step. Ryan nearly trips over his feet, stumbling until his back connects with the wall of an apartment building. Ning steps forward until they're nearly chest-to-chest, his face hovering in front of Ryan's. "Stop," he says.

"Stop _what_?" Ryan snipes back. "I'm not doing anything!" 

Ning kisses him, biting his way into Ryan's mouth, his hand coming up to grip tightly at Ryan's hair. Ryan hates himself for it, but he kisses back, reaching down to take a firm handful of Ning's ass, rutting forward into him. 

Their lips part, Ning moving down to press kisses into Ryan's neck. "We shouldn't be doing this." Ryan isn't sure if he says it for his benefit or Ning's. It's ignored either way, the words disappearing into the night as Ning sucks a bruise into his neck. 

"Where are you staying?" 

It's as good a reminder as any of how reckless and stupid this is. "With people," Ryan says, getting his hands between them to press at Ning's chest, trying to get him to step back. "How about you?"

He expects it to bring Ning up short. Instead, the man drags his mouth along Ryan's jaw, retaking his lips in a kiss.

Ning pulls back after a few more kisses, his breath leaving him in a rush as he stuffs both of his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "Aha," he says, smiling at Ryan as he pulls out his phone with a look of triumph. He unlocks it and taps at the screen a few times before a tinny voice says, "向北前行."

Ryan blinks. 

"Follow me." Ning grabs hold of his hand again and pulls him back towards the street they'd been on to begin with. 

Ryan tries not to get too lost in how surreal all of it feels, walking hand in hand with Ning through the lamp-lit streets of Rome as they head towards what is sure to be a hookup that will look extremely ill-advised in the light of day, at whatever place Ning's management company has booked for him. 

He breaks his silence once he sees the hotel Ning's taken him to. "Oh, what the fuck." 

Ning doesn't break his stride. "Don't act like you are not impressed."

Ryan's very tempted to walk away just to prove that he can, but Ning seems to read the sentiment on his face, his grip tightening. 

The reception is extremely discreet, Ning dragging them in a line from the wide doors to the stairs without the front desk rep so much as looking at them twice. Ning's room is on the fourth floor; he fumbles with his suit pockets, looking for the keycard. Ryan likes how flustered he looks, frustrated with himself and the key, and decides to fuck with him a little bit.

He plasters himself to Ning's back, one arm coming around to settle at Ning's hip while his other grips at Ning's chest, working at the buttons of his suit. He presses his mouth, hot and wet, to Ning's neck and bites hard enough to bruise. 

Ning presses back against him, his fingers going weak on the card. He nearly drops it, fumbling forward to catch it with a firmer grip. "坏蛋," he says, gently elbowing at Ryan behind him. "Let me focus." 

"I'm not doing anything." Ryan reaches down to start undoing Ning's fly. 

The lock finally blinks green, and Ning is quick to throw the door open. The suite inside is a gorgeous mix of creams and dark wood, a few lights artfully left on, illuminating the space in a warm glow, and that's about all Ryan sees of it once Ning untangles himself from his arms and gets back to the business of dragging Ryan along again, this time into the bedroom. 

They kick off their shoes somewhere around the couch, stumbling into one another, pausing just once when Ryan gets enough leverage to trap Ning in the hallway, kissing him stupid a few times before relenting enough to be led on once more. 

The bed matches the living room, and it's an extremely soft landing spot once Ning has shoved Ryan down onto it. Ryan looks up at him as Ning remains standing, his quick fingers making work of his buttons, flinging his coat off behind him into the middle of the room. 

"What are you doing?" Ning asks. "Get naked."

Ryan lets his weight rest back on his elbows, tipping his head back to meet Ning's eyes. "Make me," he says.

* * *

Jon's never been one to do anything by halves, which is why Ryan hadn't been the least bit surprised when he'd announced that his first foray into set dressing was for a big-budget film.

He is, however, a bit nonplussed to be Jon's plus-one to the premiere, Simon caught up with an emergency back at Barney's HQ that apparently can't be ignored. What's disgusting is that Jon doesn't even seem upset. 

"I swear to god, if I start getting hate mail because people think I broke you two up, I'm suing."

Jon does one more pass at smoothing out Ryan's hair before pinching both of Ryan's cheeks with his forefinger and thumb. "Stop being so dramatic," he says. "This is fun! A movie premiere! With a hot, young twink on my arm! Don't ruin this for me, Fu."

Ryan sputters, beyond himself. "I am _not_ a twink." 

He stands tall as Jon steps back to look him over from top to tail. Jon's eyes squint, and his lips puff out for a moment. "Twunk," he decides. 

Ryan supposes that he'll take it.

Hardly anyone cares about them as they arrive, photojournalists snapping a few preliminary shots of them on the red carpet in the off chance they end up being important. A star rolls up after them, and they're promptly forgotten. 

"See," Jon asks, "was that so bad?"

"I'm not committing to anything until after I'm sure that the movie doesn't suck." 

A woman comes over, her cameraman trailing behind her, telling them that she works for Vogue, which explains why she seems to know who Jon is and that he's worth speaking too. Ryan stands next to him as Jon answers her questions, smile polite as Jon involves him outright, introducing him as Simon's apprentice. "And boys, he's single!" 

The interview wraps up as quickly as it began. "Make sure you keep the last part in," Jon requests. Ryan slaps a hand over Jon's mouth and says, "Cut it." 

"You're no fun at all," Jon says once they're alone again. "This is why I'd never even think of leaving Simon for you." 

Ryan opens his mouth to tell him off, but Jon cuts him off. "Oh wait," he says. "Hello, look out."

"Hello, Ryan."

He doesn't quite believe his ears, but there's only one person who says his name that way. "Are you stalking me?" 

Jon raises his hand, "That's my cue! We're in C14 and 15, darling. Movie starts in ten!" 

Ning steps right into the now-unoccupied space at Ryan's side, smiling at him. "Production company of my next film also produce this movie," Ning says. "So I come." 

Ryan isn't sure what to do with himself. "That's nice." He swallows and wishes that he had something to drink. "Are you here alone?" 

Ning's smile is always especially handsome when it has a self-deprecating edge. "No subtitles," he explains, in lieu of an actual answer, although Ryan can figure out the rest. 

Licking his lips, he hypes himself up enough to meet Ning's eyes. "So your entourage ditched you?"

"Nobody have loyalty anymore."

Isn't that the truth. Ryan stuffs his hand in his pocket and tries to look as uninterested as possible. "Are you excited for the movie?"

"No," Ning says, answer coming almost before Ryan has even finished posing the question. 

"Oh."

They end up in the bathroom, commandeering the disabled stall. It takes the cold shock of the tile on his bare ass for Ryan to realize just what it is that they're doing. 

"Fuck," he says, pushing back Ning's head from where he's started sucking kisses into Ryan's stomach, down on his knees on the bathroom floor. "We can't do this again."

Ning frowns up at him, alarmed. "Why?" he demands. "Are you seeing someone?"

The jealousy is thick in his voice. Ryan hates himself for how the sound of it makes him want to kiss Ning silly. "I don't have to be with someone to know that this isn't a good fucking idea." He undercuts his words with the gentle way can't help but card his fingers through Ning's hair, rubbing at his scalp. 

Ning looks at him very seriously. "Is great fucking idea," he says. Ryan's dick bobs towards Ning's lips at the sound of him cussing in English. It makes Ning grin like the annoying shit he is. "See?" he mouths quickly at Ryan's dick, making Ryan's knees go weak before he pulls back again in the worst form of tease. "Your body knows it. Listen to your instincts."

* * *

He gets a text from an unknown number a week or so later, nothing in the message aside from a 🦁 emoji.

Ryan frowns at the screen, bringing his legs up under him on the couch. **who is this??** he texts back, though dread has already started to settle in his stomach, one obvious answer floating to the front of his mind. 

**i switch to iphone and you can't even remember who i am?**

This cannot be happening. **who gave you my number?** he asks instead.

**my agent knows everyone**

Ryan can't quite decide how he feels. Before he can think better of it, Ryan taps the contact bar at the top of the app and hits the FaceTime button. Ning accepts the call in the middle of the second ring. 

"Ryan!" The connection isn't great, his face a stilted, pixelated mess, yet it's unquestionably Ning. 

"Are you for real right now?" Ryan asks. 

"You called me!" Ning smiles at him through the screen. "Very lucky for me; my next question was going to be what you were wearing."

Ryan actually blushes, grateful that between the bad connection and low light of his living room, it likely won't show up for Ning to see. "We're not doing that."

"No," Ning agrees. "I have to go."

"Where are you?" All that Ryan can make out behind Ning is the blue of the sky, completely divorced from any sense of location.

"California!" Ning sounds excited. "Palo Alto," he amends, "Apple campus, new sponsor. I just get phone set up by Tim Cook." He looks around himself before bringing the phone up close, so that his face encroaches up the entire screen. "Did you know he is gay?" 

Ryan isn't sure if he's meant to laugh, or if crying might be a healthier choice. "The whole world knows, Ning." He realizes that he's smiling, and doesn't bother to hide it for once. "I think he's pretty much the most eligible gay bachelor in the universe."

The phone swings back suddenly, the picture frozen and then defragmented as the camera tries to catch up with Ning's movements. "I am better than him," Ning says. 

Ryan rests his chin on his knees, looking at Ning through the screen of the phone. "Yeah," Ryan says, softly. "Probably. So where are you going next?"

"Ah!" Ning seems to remember that there must be a whole collection of people waiting for him. "Chinatown, San Francisco."

"How exciting. You'd better go before they leave you behind."

Ning laughs with the surety of a man that hasn't been left behind in a long time. It makes Ryan's heart ache, but he can't begrudge him. "Bye-bye, Ryan."

"Bye." He makes sure to hang up before Ning does, something about the thought of Ning being the one to end the conversation too much for him at the moment. 

He gets up and starts to make himself a late lunch, shouting for Siri to pick up where he last left off on the podcast he was listening to the other day. He cooks up a quick stir fry, pouring rice into the cooker his mom gifted him for his birthday and lying to himself that he's decided to make this, rather than the salad he'd originally meal-prepped for, because of a spontaneous craving and nothing else. He doesn't look at his phone again until he's sat down at the dining table, chopsticks in hand. 

Ning's texted him again: **send me something to use for contact photo**.

Ryan grabs a piece of broccoli and takes his time chewing it. He has an idea. He knows that he shouldn't. He shifts in his seat, feeling himself getting a little worked up at the thought. 

He's never been all that great with impulse control. Especially not where Ning was concerned. 

Ryan stands up from the table and shoves the designer sweats he's got on down to his knees, underwear and all. His dick is at half-mast and Ryan doesn't do anything to get himself the rest of the way, thumbing his camera app open and taking a picture of his groin. He sends it to Ning before he can talk himself out of it. **enjoy** , he says. 

The little bubble shows that Ning is typing in starts, the notification disappearing after a few seconds, then popping up again. Ryan pulls his pants back up and sits down, picking at his rice. 

Ning's reply comes about ten minutes later, right as Ryan's devoured the last piece of the shrimp. There's only carrots left on his plate, which he's never liked but regularly forces himself to eat.

 **i will cherish this** , Ning's latest text says. **beyond words. but can i please have photo of your face?**

Ryan takes one with his tongue sticking out, the middle finger of his hand not holding the phone stuck up proudly. It's a little blurry, but Ryan figures that it'll do just fine once shrunk down and cropped into a circle. 

**gorgeous** , Ning sends back instantly. **thank you**. 

Another text comes through, this one of Ning's face. He's golden in the California sunshine, grinning at his camera with his eyes closed. **for you** , he adds.

* * *

"What's the name of that actor you aren't dating again?"

This can't be leading anywhere good. "Why?" Ryan asks, suspicious.

Simon breaks instantly. "You're right, I'd never forget a name attached to a man that fit," he admits. "Sylvia says some agency called asking if you'd come out of retirement to play stylist for Qi Xiao Ning."

Ryan rolls his eyes. "I hope you told them to fuck off."

"I did the opposite of that." Simon has the wherewithal to sound sheepish as he says it.

Ryan stops the work he was doing on the proposal they're supposedly meant to be reviewing. "You did what?" he asks. 

"The agency was Gucci," Simon explains. "They said he literally refused to work with anyone else. And that there's a large creative direction side to it as well!" He says the last bit as if it's supposed to make any of this alright. 

"You're fucking with me." This can't be happening. 

"They paid for your plane ticket and everything," Simon carries on, blatantly pretending that he hasn't heard what Ryan's said. "You leave in, like," he glances down at his watch with a frown, "six hours, give or take."

* * *

Ryan hadn't imagined this would be how his first trip to China would come about. He still isn't even really sure if he actually wants to be in China in the first place.

He steps out of his gate feeling more tired than he's ever been in his life, back stiff even though his seat had been first class, another new experience for him. Too bad he'd been so caught up in wondering just what the fuck any of this was supposed to mean that he hadn't been able to enjoy it at all. 

He walks down the gate with his backpack slung over one shoulder, mentally preparing himself the collect the two large bags worth of shit Simon and Jon had sent him with for the job. 

The one thing Ryan is absolutely sure of is that he isn't at all pleased that his first solo job as a creative director has come thanks to Ning's pulling rank. 

Simon had reassured him that most breaks come this way, Jon agreeing from the back seat as the two of them drove Ryan to JFK. He's had about fourteen hours to mull it all over, and he's still leaning towards being pissed off. 

It takes an age, but the bags do eventually come, and Ryan hauls them off the belt as best he can without too much damage. He loads up the trolley and tries to remember if anyone mentioned a driver at any point, or if Ryan's meant to figure a way to the hotel on his own.

His phone vibrates. Ryan is careful not to let anything roll away from him as he stops and pulls it out from his pocket. It's a text from Ning, of course. Ryan positions the camera so that it can scan his face, unlocking the message for him to read. **turn around** , it says. 

Ryan does. "You suck," he says. 

"Hello." Ning is far too chipper for how early it is back in New York. 

"I don't want to talk to you." Ryan steps aside when Ning is close enough to take the trolley from him. Ning is in disguise, nondescript tracksuit paired with a thick pair of glasses that completely change the shape of his face. 

Ryan took exactly one Asian-American studies course in college. He dropped it when he realized he was developing a crush on his professor. Ning looks entirely too much like a fantasy that Ryan still isn't proud of himself for being into, and he distracts himself from this realization by swinging his backpack in front of him and pulling out his shades. "Are you my ride to whatever hotel I'm staying at?" 

Ning nods. Ryan gives him a suspicious look from behind the tinted lenses of his sunglasses, but can appreciate that Ning seems to have realized that it's in his best interest to do as Ryan says. "Shouldn't you be wearing Gucci frames?" he asks. "Or is Tom Ford sponsoring you too now?"

They've reached the front of the terminal, a great bustling thing as cars race up and away in chaotic harmony. "Am I allowed to answer?" Ning asks.

Ryan thinks about it. "Nah, I guess I don't really care."

Ning nods, as if he'd figured as much. He walks them to the short term parking, which is a bit of a surprise. He loads Ryan's suitcases into a black SUV and then shepherds Ryan into the passenger seat. "It's alright to sleep," Ning tells him, his voice low, as if that'll stop Ryan from being argumentative at him. 

"I'm not tired," Ryan argues, but he can't remember Ning getting into the car at all, nor them driving away. 

He wakes up to Ning's hand on his shoulder, looking at Ryan over the center console. "We're here," Ning says. 

Ryan rubs at his eyes, pushing his shades awkwardly up his nose. "What time is it?" 

"About nine," Ning turns off the ignition, the car going silent around them. "There was traffic."

"We aren't at your house, right?" Ryan asks, looking out at the dark of what seems to be an underground parking lot. 

Ning laughs. "I know better than that." A look settles onto his face. "Although," he says, trailing off. 

"No, you got it right the first time." Ryan opens the door and steps out with a groan, his back popping. He walks towards the trunk, watching as Ning pulls the bags out. "Every year closer to thirty is a step further from god." 

Ning turns to look at him, the bemused look on his face indicating that the joke went entirely over his head.

"Everyone in Beijing is going to think I'm fucking weird, won't they?" Ryan asks, sharing Ning's amusement. 

"They will love you," Ning reassures him. "These are your people."

Ryan grabs one of the suitcases and pulls the trunk closed. "They really aren't," he says, "but I get the feeling that you'll bully them into acting like they love me anyway, so I guess it doesn't matter." 

Ning frowns at him. "You feeling okay?" He presses the back of his hand to Ryan's forehead. "Since when do you agree this easily?"

He bats Ning's hand away. "I'm tired." They've made it to the elevator, and Ryan hits the button, nodding back to Ning's car. "You can head back to yours," he says. "I can take it from here."

Ning looks at him like he's grown another head. "I cannot," he says. 

"Seriously, I'm dead on my feet."

The door opens and Ryan rolls the suitcase in front of him, stepping inside and then reaching for Ning to pass over the one he's been wrangling. Ning pushes it in and then steps inside the elevator to join him. "That's why I coming with you," he says. "What if you fall asleep in the here?"

Ryan's too tired to fight. He leans against Ning's side, watching as the numbers go up past the ground floor, all the way until they reach the sixteenth. The elevator lets off into a short hallway. Ning pulls the room key from the front pocket of his hoodie and lets them inside, rolling both of the suitcases behind him. 

It's an impressive suite. 

Ryan takes off his shades and sets them on the table by the door. He steps out of his shoes, lining them up neatly off to the side. "You're really obvious," he says.

"I take that as compliment." Ning kicks his own flip-flops off in a heap, taking Ryan by his arm and guiding him deeper into the room. "You hungry?"

Ryan lets Ning pull off his jacket, watches the careful way Ning folds it in half and drapes it over one of the wingback chairs clustered to the side of the room nearest the door, treating Ryan's clothes with so much more respect than he does his own. "Maybe later," Ryan says, yawning. 

Ning nods, as if something's been decided. "I take you to bed."

Ryan frowns. "Seriously, I'm beat."

"I just said I take you!" Ning places both his hands on Ryan's shoulders, ushering him through the sitting room and into the bedroom. He helps Ryan out of his shirt, pulling it over his head. 

Ryan lets him. Standing there sleepily as Ning undoes the button of his pants. Ning stands perfectly still as Ryan rests a hand on his shoulder, using it for balance as he steps out of one leg and then the other. 

The bed is very soft when he lies on it, although the sheets are a cold shock to his system, enough that he wakes up enough to realize Ning isn't leaving. "I swear to god," Ryan says, yawning again, "if you drug me around the world just so we could hook up..."

"You're very talented!" Ning unzips the front of his tracksuit, revealing his bare chest beneath. "I only want the best people on my team." 

"You did not come to the airport basically naked," Ryan says, suddenly much more awake. "Tell me you at least have underwear on."

Ning undoes the drawstring at his waist, shoving his pants down to his feet. His dick swings freely between his legs. 

"I take it back," Ryan covers his face with his hands. "You are beyond obvious. Is there a word in Mandarin for that? English doesn't have anything to embody how shameless you are."

Ning slides into the same side of the bed Ryan's claimed as his own, forcing Ryan to scoot towards the middle of the bed. "I thought you are tried," Ning says. "I only want to sleep. Very trying day." The yawn is fairly convincing, but Ryan supposes that Ning is a decent enough actor. 

"Is that so?" he asks. 

"Yes." Ning nods. "Goodnight kiss," he announces it before leaning in. Ryan opens his mouth at the last second, sucking Ning's bottom lip between his own. 

Ning blinks at him. "One more," he says, sounding dazed. Their tongues meet this time, Ryan licking deep into Ning's mouth. It's been about four months since they last saw one another at the movie premiere, and Ryan isn't in so much denial that he doesn't know that he's missed this. 

He gets one off his legs between Ning's and things progress from there, Ning's dick hot against the skin of Ryan's thigh. Ning's hand slides itself down the curve of Ryan's flank, fingers hooking on the seam of Ryan's underwear. 

Ryan opens his eyes and sees that Ning is staring right at him, gaze intent as he kisses with purpose. Ryan gets his arm underneath him, uses it as leverage to raise his hips up, Ning dragging the last of his clothing down enough that Ryan can kick them off the end of the bed, down onto the floor. 

He hisses when Ning wraps his wide palm around the both of them, jacking. He kisses harder into Ning's mouth, lightheaded from breathing in the air that Ning has only just exhaled. "This isn't enough," he says, and Ning nods so aggressively that his nose ends up in Ryan's mouth, the both of them laughing at themselves. 

Ning rolls onto his front, the long line of his body extended towards the bedside table, where Ning yanks a drawer open and pulls out a bottle of lubricant. He stays there with his face mashed into the pillow, blindly thrusting the bottle behind him to hand off to Ryan.

"You're ridiculous," Ryan says, though it's probably a good thing Ning can't see the complicated expression that Ryan can feel he's sporting. 

He flips the cap on the bottle and squeezes some of it into his hand, dropping it off to the side of them once he's finished. He fists himself, stroking to get his dick nice and wet; with his other hand he palms Ning's ass, squeezing hard enough that the skin begins to turn red, Ning's spine curving into the bed as he humps down, fucking the mattress. 

Ryan can just barely make out the moans that Ning's hiding into the pillow, and the faint echo of them drives him insane. He lets go of himself, sliding his slick thumb into the cleft of Ning's ass, pushing inside. Ning leverages his weight to his shoulders, using them to press back against Ryan's hand. 

It's too good. Ryan pulls his arm back, planting his clean hand onto the mattress near Ning's hip. He guides himself into Ning's body, joining them together in one smooth push that leaves him gasping. 

He can't focus on much more than the hard, short thrusts he uses to pound into Ning's body, into the soft clutch of him that seems to grow impossibly tighter whenever Ryan moves on the out-stroke. "Fuck," Ryan says, and he can hardly believe it's his voice. Sweat rolls down from his temples to his neck. He drops himself down onto Ning's back, burying his face in the hair at Ning's neck. "You feel so good." His lips catch on Ning's damp skin, and Ryan feels himself get that much closer to the edge at the taste of him. 

Ning's head turns the side, his breaths coming out in large gasps that Ryan can feel at his chest, Ning's back expanding with each inhalation. Ryan's heard these moans in his sleep, had them feature in the majority of his fantasies each and any time he's jacked off in the past couple years. It's too much to hear them so close to him now, to be drawing them out of Ning. 

"Missed you," Ning says. 

Ryan bites into the thick muscle of Ning's shoulder, fucking into him until he comes, and then continuing his thrusts a little after that, drawing everything out until he's so sensitive that he fears he might go out of his mind with it. 

His limbs feel like jelly as he finally extracts himself from Ning's body, using the last of his strength to flip over onto his back to stare up at the ornate ceiling in the room. He rests his hand on the thick curve of Ning's thigh, squeezing. 

Ning moves like a predator, raising onto his arms and crawling over to lay on top of Ryan in a smooth, fluid movement. His dick is hard where it rests in the curve of Ryan's hip. 

Ryan brings his hands up to cradle Ning's jaw, pulling him down until Ning's face is buried in his neck. It feels like too much to have Ning looking at him just then. Ryan licks his lips, gaping as Ning bites at his Adam's apple. "Fuck me," Ryan says.

To his credit, Ning doesn't need to be told twice. His hand starts sweeping across the bed, though he doesn't move from his place on top of Ryan. Ryan laughs at him, amusement growing even greater as Ning angles his face up to level Ryan with a frown. 

Eventually, Ning manages to relocate the bottle in the too-big bed, and Ryan lets himself be folded in half. "Hey," he says, and has to stop to just breathe, sucking in a jittery inhale as Ning slides into him. "Shit," he tries again, "I've missed this too."

His words are taken as some sort of instruction, if not an outright challenge. Ning fucks into Ryan with deep rolls of his hips, staying so close that he hardly pulls out at all, keeping a steady pressure on Ryan's prostate, driving him mad. It's so much, and Ryan wonders if he just might cry, over-stimulated. Tears fall unbidden, and Ning isn't so far gone himself that it escapes his notice, dipping down to kiss them from the slopes of Ryan's cheeks. 

Ning comes, clutching Ryan to him. Ryan holds him back just as hard, a hand fisted in Ning's hair, the other clutching at the muscles of Ning's back so tightly that his own joints ache, uncaring of any bruise or mark he might leave.

Everything hits Ryan at once, and he has to swallow against the dryness of his mouth a few times before he can speak. "What are we even doing here?" he asks, hating himself just a little for caring enough to ask at all, keenly aware that he should know better than to expect anything concrete from Ning. 

He's never been promised anything, knows firsthand how Ning operates, how his word is little better than sand. Ning told him once that he was always dreaming, and Ryan has no idea if those dreams include him now any more now than back when it'd all gone to shit to begin with.

Ning's breathing is heavy, their bodies still connected as Ning slowly softens inside of them. He strokes a hand over Ryan's face, eyes closed, and rests his head next to Ryan's on the pillow. "We are going to be great," he says, shushing him. "So sleep."

* * *

The one condition Ryan set before he'd been forced to fuck off to China was that he’d get to have a vacation once that particular disaster had finished. Seven days later — three of which he hadn't seen hide nor hair of Ning at all; the other four having them partaking a strange, impersonal dance where they hadn't had any time alone at all, leaving Ryan to feel even more awkward than he had during their initial first introduction — has Ryan jumping onto a short business class flight to Japan and doing just that.

He gets in late to Haneda, which is so much less chaotic than Beijing's airport that Ryan feels like he has whiplash from experiencing both in so short a time. He'd shipped the majority of his kit back home to Simon before he'd set off for Tokyo, leaving Ryan with his backpack and a duffle that's much easier to manage. He walks through the quiet terminal soaking it all in, using his phone to help him find the correct connecting area for the train that'll take him into the city. 

It'd been sort of easy to forget that Christmas was around the corner in Beijing, but Japan has no such issue in pandering to the holiday, decorations up and neon advertisements blinking at him once the train finally docks into the city proper. Everything is aimed at couples, and Ryan does his best not to let any of it bother him during his short walk to where his connection will be arriving shortly.

He waits with his airpods in, listening to music as he checks his work email, snapping a photo of himself looking tired but excited and sending it off to his mother, the more technologically savvy of his parents. He tries to keep his mind focused on the present, the apologetic look Ning had given him on the last day of the shoot hovering at the edges of his mind, of Ning telling Ryan that he wouldn't have any time to take him to the airport the following night. 

Ryan can't believe — he stops himself, swiping over to his podcast app and pulling up one that should have an interesting discussion, anything to keep him out of his own head, prevent him from going over everything he said and wishes he hadn't, as well as all the regrets over what he failed to say at all.

A chime goes off overhead, and his train slides into the station. Ryan is one of only a handful of people that board; the train itself is mostly empty, leaving Ryan in a cabin that he shares with three other people, all of them spread out on opposite ends, engrossed with their phones.

They go through station after station, one or two people getting on or off, the train emptying the further south they go. Ryan makes his second connection, settling into his new seat and pulling his scarf a little higher up his face, using it as a mask, and closes his eyes for a moment, the motion of the car lulling him into a doze. 

He comes back to himself when he feels someone standing in front of him. Ryan blinks into the bright light of the cabin. Ning is there, wearing his glasses again, bundled up in a dark parka with a soft cream-colored hoodie underneath, bright-red strap of his bag across his chest, the dark wash of his jeans cuffed above a pair of trainers. The bastard looks like a model. 

"有人吗?" Ning says. 

Ryan blinks at him. "Are you fucking with me?" The words are swallowed up by his scarf and Ryan reaches up to pull it away from his mouth, rubbing at his eyes. "Am I still asleep?"

The overhead intercom chimes, and the train begins to move again. Ning takes hold of the grab rail, using it as leverage as he bends in half so that his face is level with Ryan's. "Do you mind if I sit there?" he asks, slowly. 

"You're a dick," Ryan says back, just as slow, making sure to keep his volume low so that they don't bother the only other passenger in the car, a businessman keeping to himself on the other end of the carriage. "But sure, whatever."

Ning sits close enough that their thighs touch, their shoulders bumping. He shrugs off his bag and rests it at his feet, the same as Ryan has done. Ryan's still got his airpods in and he turns up the volume once Ning is settled, focusing on the host's laughter. He closes his eyes again.

A finger taps on his shoulder. Ryan opens one of his eyes, letting his chin tip to the side, looking at Ning, who's staring back at him expectantly. 

Ning takes one of the headphones from Ryan's ear. "You are not going to ask how I am here?" he asks, looking excited. 

"Not really." He snatches his airpod back from Ning's fingers. 

A grunt cuts from Ning's throat, his expression turning determined. "Why are you making this difficult?"

"Why didn't you tell me you were going to stalk me internationally?"

"Is suprise!" Ning says, and clear that none of this is going as he'd planned, but Ryan isn't in any sort of mood to help him.

"I guess it isn't my sort of surprise." He fixes his eyes forward. "And can you keep your voice down? It's rude."

Ning's hands grip his knees tightly, frowning hard. "Now you care about culture?" 

Ryan breathes in deeply. He's on vacation. He isn't going to let Ning do this. "In my world," he says, "when you surprise someone by crashing their solo vacation in a way that you hope is romantic, you kiss them. Otherwise, you're an annoying coworker who needs to fuck off." He smiles as brightly as he can, before rolling his eyes. "Does that help bridge the culture gap?"

He makes to turn his head, happy to stare forward out the window the rest of the trip, ignoring Ning completely, but fingers grab at his chin, holding his face steady. Ning leans in and kisses him, chastely but with feeling, sucking Ryan's bottom lip into his mouth before he finally pulls back.

"Hello, Ryan," Ning says, voice as serious as Ryan has ever heard it. "I have come to surprise you."

Ryan licks his lips. He swallows, once. "So has the world ended?"

Ning readjusts his glasses on his nose, hiding the slight smile he's sporting down at his chest. "Asteroid strike," he confirms. 

Ryan can't keep from laughing, smothering the sound of it in his scarf. "You're such a nerd."

A part of him is still waiting for Ning to disappoint him; Ryan reaches out and takes Ning's hand, lacing their fingers together in his lap, wanting to see what Ning will do. Ning adjusts his grip, holding Ryan's back just as firmly. 

A few stations down the line sees a young man get on, looking tired and rolling luggage along with him. He sits a few seats down and Ryan can see the minute he realizes they're holding hands. His eyes flick up, surprised, and Ryan catches his gaze. The man nods, polite, and then looks away, pulling out his phone and seeming to forget they exist. 

He looks at Ning, wondering if he's noticed. He finds that Ning is already looking at him, sardonic smile tilting the corner of his lips. _Apocalypse_ , he mouths, grinning when it makes Ryan smile. 

The conductor announces that they're about to arrive at what he thinks is his stop, and Ryan pulls out his phone to recheck the directions to the onsen he's booked. Ning reads the screen over his shoulder, letting go of Ryan's hand and coming to stand. he puts on Ryan's backpack first, swinging his own duffle back over his shoulder and carrying Ryan's second bag in the curve of his arm. 

Ryan pulls out his headphones, snapping them back into the case and stuffing it into his jacket's pocket. "I can carry my own things, you know." 

Ning gives him a look. "You just focus on navigation."

They step out onto the station, dark and empty at this time of night. His map app says that it shouldn't be more than ten minutes to walk to their destination, and they set off.

"So how well did you plan this?" Ryan asks. "Have you got a room? 

Ning shrugs, hitching one of the bags higher up his shoulder. "I have nowhere else to go."

He eyes him. "What if I haven't got room for you?" The forest around them has started to thicken, blocking out the light from the village at their back. The stars above them seem infinite, the sky clear. 

Ning sighs, sounding utterly forlorn. It's completely ridiculous, but he sells it. "I will have nowhere to say if you don't take me in," he laments. "I will have to sleep outside your door."

Ryan jogs forward, turning to walk backward in the middle of the path. "I guess it would make me a bad Chinese person if I let the nation's rising star sleep out in the cold, huh?"

Ning nods, walking quicker to bridge the gap Ryan put between them, practically stepping on Ryan's toes. "Very, very bad Chinese," he agrees. "Which would be a shame; you've improved so much."

"I'm, like, ninety percent sure the room has a couch, so you should be fine."

Ning's eyebrows go up, and he frowns. "Bad luck to have guest to sleep on couch."

"Why does that sound made up?" Ryan's foot catches on an uneven patch on the road, his ankle buckling. 

Ning's hand shoots out to catch him, saving Ryan from eating dirt. Ning laughs, a little breathless, shaking his bangs out of his face. "Because I just make it up," he admits. "Sounds true though, doesn't it?"

He takes Ryan by the shoulders and turns him so that they're both facing forward again. Ning laces their fingers together between them, holding Ryan's hand as he continues further up the path where Ryan can start to see lights appearing between the trees. He clears his throat. "So where do guests go that brings good luck?" he asks. 

"Bed," Ning answers, instantaneous. 

"Wow," Ryan drags out the vowel. "You didn't even pretend to think about it."

The front office comes into view, a gorgeous wooden structure. Ryan lets go of Ning's hand to fish out his phone, snapping a picture of it in the moonlight. He pulls up his reservation information, switching apps to pull up Google Translate just in case. "Wait here," he says to Ning. "I'll check in."

He goes inside, smiling at the old man working the desk who bows at him. "Ah, um," Ryan steps forward, pulling out his wallet. "英語を話せますか?"

The smile doesn't drop from the man's face even though Ryan knows he must have butchered the pronunciation to hell. "Yes," he answers. "Is fine." He bows again. "Two?" he asks. "Under which name?"

A hand settles low on his back. "Ryan," Ning says. "Fu."

The man types at the computer in front of him for a moment, frowning. "Villa Nine. Booking says just one?"

Ning steps even closer, boxing Ryan against the front of the counter. "Sorry," he says. "Last minute addition. I can pay any difference."

The man waves a hand in front of his face, looking unbothered. "Just meals," he reassures. "The room already made for couple."

Ryan instinctively wants to say that it isn't like that, his back tensing up in fear over how Ning will react. The thought of things ending now seems so much more devastating than if Ning had pulled away on the train. 

Ning turns to him, their faces already so close. "Ah, nine!" he smiles. "Lucky number."

"You are Chinese?" the man asks.

"Me!" Ning smiles, looking pleased for the man to have noticed. "He is American Chinese." 

The man bows at them again. "Welcome to Japan," he says. And then Ryan can't help himself from bowing in return, ignoring the palpable feeling of Ning's amusement at his back. 

He's handed the keys to the villa he's booked, Ryan carefully taking them with both hands. The owner points them towards a hallway, telling them that they can access the private villas through it.

Ning still has their bags, so they head out the way they've been instructed, walking back out into the night. They pass a handful of villas, all of them marked in Japanese. It's possible that Ryan made a mistake in waving off the receptionist's offer of help.

"There." Ning points to a house set off to the left of the path they're on. "That one is nine."

Ryan's impressed. "You can read Japanese?" 

"I know how to count," Ning corrects. He lets Ryan's duffle slip down to his hand, flexing his shoulder. "See if key works."

It does. Ning hooks his chin over Ryan's shoulder once they step inside and close the door behind them. "See," Ryan says. "There is a couch." He shrugs Ning off of him, bending down to untie his shoes. 

Ning tosses their bags towards the middle of the room, stepping out of his shoes without bothering to untie them. "You are so annoying," he says.

"Is that any way to speak to your host?" Ryan gropes him as he walks past, turning on a few more lights than the one left lit at the door, inspecting the room.

"You would be lost in forest without me," Ning says, voice blunt. He heads straight for the bed, dropping his parka to the floor behind him, pulling his hoodie off next, leaving his hair in a wild mess as he flops down onto the mattress. "Show some gratitude."

Ryan picks up Ning's clothes, folding them and settling them on the chic looking dresser that serves as a slight partition between the open concept of the sitting room and the bed off to the corner. "My gratitude will be shown by you not sleeping on the couch." He takes off his jacket, folding it onto the dresser before sitting his scarf on top of it. 

He sits next to where Ning is slumped on the bed, not at all surprised when Ning's warm hand relocates itself high to Ryan's thigh.

"This place is nice," Ning says. "Traditional, yet modern."

Ryan closes his eyes for a second, raising his arms to the ceiling, letting out a contented groan as his spine cracks. "Well, yeah," he says, after a moment. "Why in the hell would I come all this way if not to experience the real deal?" He looks around the room, at the little wood-burning stove in the corner, the tea set arranged on a low table next to it. The door to the patio beyond the room is glass, and he can see the private bath through it, open to the air.

"Funny," Ning says. "I think same thing."

He brings his gaze back to Ning, looking down at him. "Yeah?" he asks.

Ning sits up, leaning into Ryan's space, getting close enough that their noses brush. He reaches up to play with the collar of Ryan's t-shirt, tugging at the hem. "I think," Ning says, quickly looking up at Ryan from beneath his eyelashes for a moment before dropping his gaze again, "once you experience real thing, is very hard to be satisfied otherwise."

Ryan ducks his head down and kisses him, taking Ning by his jaw to help get their mouths into a better position, correcting the angle.

When they break apart, Ryan asks, "What are you doing after this?"

Ning blinks, looking a little dazed. Ryan smirks as he watches Ning run the back of his hand across his mouth a few times. "Uh," Ning says. "British project I think. Director is like you," he nods, "a hyphen."

"A what?"

"Chinese-hyphen! Chinese-American, Chinese-British—"

Ryan groans and drops onto his back, rolling to face the common area of the room, his back to Ning, who is quick to flop down again himself, plastering himself to Ryan's back. His hand slides over Ryan's hip, curling in front, and then tucking his hand under Ryan's other side, essentially cuddling Ryan to him. His beard tickles the sensitive skin at the back of Ryan's neck.

"Could you be in England?" Ning asks. 

Ryan considers it. "I could base my work out of London for a little bit, yes."

It earns him a hard squeeze, Ning tickling his stomach. "Would you?"

Ryan tries to break free, but Ning's got too strong a hold on him, one of his legs settling atop of both of Ryan's thighs, pinning him. "Maybe," Ryan says at last, relenting. He looks sightlessly into the living area, telling himself that he shouldn't get his hopes up. "What if the press finds out that I'm in England?"

Ning's palm spreads wide across Ryan's stomach, holding him. They're both quiet, no sound but their breathing. "I've been thinking for a while," Ning pauses, seeming to consider his words, "if Republic of China might not be better market for me." 

It pulls Ryan up short. He considers what that would mean. "Taiwan, you mean?" 

Ning sighs like just hearing it hurts him. "Yes," he agrees, voice heavy. "Taiwan."

Ryan thinks about it some more. "Where gay marriage is legal." 

It earns him another squeeze. 

"Why must you be so loud above everything?" Ning asks, sounding worn down. "Not everything must be said."

Ryan smiles out into the room in front of him, so widely that his cheeks start to hurt. "You're more obvious than you think, buddy."

He sits up, ignoring Ning's whine, and starts to undo the buttons of his shirt. "Anyway, I don't know about you, but it's been a long fucking week for me, and I'm going to use that bath tonight."

It gets Ning to spring into action, undoing the buttons of his jeans at the same time as he tries to step out of his socks. Ryan pauses in removing his own clothes to watch, transfixed. "You know that you won't be doing anything if you fall and die, right?" he asks. "Like, there's no open-air baths in heaven."

Ning grins at him as he pushes his underwear down to his ankles, proud in his nudity. "Am already in heaven!" He grabs Ryan's hands and pulls him to stand, pulling Ryan's shirt over his head. "Hurry, hurry," he says, undoing the fly of Ryan's jeans. "We must shower first before we go into the bath."

With Ning's help, Ryan is naked in no time at all, and they step into the little washroom off to the side of the bedroom together. The stone floor is cold against Ryan's feet, and he shivers a bit at the shock of it. Ning crowds closer to him, radiating heat. "So?" Ning asks. 

Ryan pretends not to get what he's aiming for. He grabs a cloth from the basket near the faucet and turns the water on, testing the temperature. The soap laid out for them looks expensive, and Ryan is impressed. He'll have to remember to take photos of everything in the morning before Ning has a chance to mess it all up. "So what?"

Ning squats next to him, his legs spread wide. He douses himself with water far too cold for Ryan to consider fucking with, seeming to relish the chill. He completely drenches his hair, shaking the water from it like an animal, sending freezing droplets Ryan's way, making him shriek. Ning grins at him, sharp. "England." His voice changes, mocking Ryan's accent. "Taiwan."

The water's hot enough for Ryan to wet his cloth, rubbing the soap against it before scrubbing himself down as quickly as he can, eager to get into the boiling pool outside. "How about we see how this goes, and then take it from there?"

Ning looks dubious. "We will keep the rest in mind, yes?" He snatches the cloth from Ryan's hands without waiting for an answer, shuffling forward to scrub at Ryan's back, so perfunctory and near-platonic in a way that strangely makes Ryan smile. When he finishes with Ryan's back, he hands the cloth back, and Ryan repeats the scrub-down on Ning, quickly washing down his back and chest. Ning gets another cloth from the basket, scrubbing down his legs and feet, Ryan copying him, smile still stretching his mouth. 

It isn't until they're rinsing off that Ning seems to notice his amusement. "What?" he asks, looking at Ryan with mistrust. 

Ryan shakes his head. "Nothing," he says. "Are you ready?"

Ning rolls his eyes. "I am freezing, Ryan." He stands up and grabs two towels, though he doesn't bother to wrap either of them around himself. "Of course I am ready, come on."

"It's your fault for using cold water, what the fuck." 

"Cold water not matter!" Ning drips his way out onto their private balcony, the cold air visibly raising goosebumps on his skin, both of their breaths puffing in front of them. "You are so slow! There is no need to wash so luxuriously." 

Ryan shoves him out of the way and steps up into the pool, hissing at how good the heat of the water feels in contrast to the near-freezing air around them. Ning clamors in after him, pressing close even though the tub is more than big enough for the two of them. "Oh my god this feels so good," Ryan groans. 

Ning's arms close around his hips, cradling Ryan's dick in his hands. He nibbles at Ryan's ear, his grin obvious enough that Ryan can hear it in his voice. "I have heard that before."

"I don't think you have." Ryan leans his weight back against Ning's chest, lets himself be manipulated over to the side of the pool. Ning sits down on the bench built there, settling Ryan on his lap, where Ryan can feel Ning's interest against the curve of his ass. 

"Maybe," Ning says, and his hand is working Ryan so perfectly that he has to focus to remember what they're even talking about. "But I will have much time to find a way to hear it, yes?"

Ryan nods, "Sure." He spreads his legs, pushing his weight down into Ning's lap. He catches Ning's free hand in the water, knotting their fingers together. "Will you wash my back?" he asks.

Ning kisses his shoulder. "I will do more than that."

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Ryan's boss is [Simon Doonan](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Simon_Doonan). I tried to think of where Ryan would go after losing his job and moving from stylist to a creative director track seemed to really fit for him, especially since he took such a holistic approach to his styling work in the film anyway. 
> 
> I never would have had the courage to write for this fandom without your great letter. Much love to l for the beta. Happy Yuletide!


End file.
